Personal Stuff
by ibreak4CSI
Summary: [GC] Why doesn't Gil have any personal stuff? !COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Why _doesn't_ Gil have any "personal stuff?"

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own anything to do with CSI, not even the DVDs.

Spoilers: slight refrences to dialogue from Pledging Mr. Johnson

Rating: T, just to be safe

Feedback: Makes my day! Seriously!

Notes: This fic was inspired by the song "Because of You" by Kelly Clarkson, which, in my opinion, is the best song she has ever done.

Flashbacks in italics.

.:Personal Stuff:.

Catherine sat curled up on her couch, staring into space. Her hands were wrapped around a cup of hot chocolate that had long ago cooled. Her thought were far from the cheesy movie she had flipped on in a failed attempt to drown out her feelings. She loved him so much. God, what she wouldn't give to show it...to have him return her feelings. But she couldn't. Because he couldn't. He could never return them. So she would never let him know. Never make the same mistake he had.

He had been hurt all those years ago, and he still hadn't gotten over it. He denied it, of course, but she knew. She always knew.

_It was eighteen years ago. She and Grissom had met a few months before, and had become best friends. The shy scientist and the former exotic dancer-not stripper, mind you. Her opinions actually mattered to him, and they talked about anything and everything. Then one day, they met her. Her name was Heather. Catherine had never liked her. Had seen right through her from the start. But Grissom hadn't. A few weeks and dates later, Grissom had been in love. Deeply, irrivokingly in love, he confided to Catherine. But as soon as he showed that he was even in the least emotionally involved, Heather had started slowly backing off. It was obvious to she hadn't wanted a serious relationship. But Grissom had been oblivious, until the night she told him she didn't want any emotional entanglements, and proceeded to walk off to find a different man who she left with less than five minutes later. The love of his life had tossed his love back in his face. And he had been hurt, shattered, torn into a million pieces, leaning on Catherine for support. _

So Catherine kept it up, never once admitting what she felt for him. Instead, going for the men that meant nothing but sex. Damn good sex -after all, a woman had her needs-, but nothing more. Never any emotional entanglements, because those could hurt you. Hurt you deeply, leaving you scarred for life. Grissom had taught her that the hard way...through experience. Because of him, she played it safe, terrified to go through what he had. Oh, she knew he was nothing like Heather. He would never be so cruel as to throw her love back at her so harshly. But he would reject her all the same, or might even pretend to love her out of guilt. And that would be even worse. But what he would probably do would be pull away. Retreat back into that shell, letting all their years of friendship fall away. Catherine could not let that happen to herself. If she didn't tell him, he would never know. He couldn't reject, and therefore hurt her if he didn't know. Or so she told herself.

And he asked her why she went for the men that did not treat her right. Why should he care? It was his fault, anyway! If he would just love her...but she knew that wasn't fair. It wasn't his fault. But it helped to blame it on someone else. On him for not loving her.

Not on her, for loving the forbidden.

She remembered the day she had almost broken down in front of him because of it.

_It was two years ago, and Catherine had finally admitted to herself that she loved him...and had for a long time. That night, Catherine had been almost cautious around Gil, measuring her every comment and movement, so as not to give herself away._

_Somehow, they got into a discussion reguarding a conversation they had had a couple of years before that about Grissom not having any "personal stuff." She had asked him why he still didn't, and the hurt that registered in his eyes had almost been more than she could bear. She had apologized, and rushed out, not wanting to cry in front of him. Because if she stayed, he would ask what was wrong. And she couldn't tell him. _

_Couldn't tell him that she was crying for him because he still hurt, for her because the pain he caused her by still hurting was almost more than she could bear, and for them because the fact that he was still in love with Heather just made it even more concrete that she would never have the slightest chance of him loving her. Gil Grissom, she knew, was the kind of man who loved one woman, and one woman only. That was just who he was. And that woman was Heather. She just had to come to terms with that._

The motions she went through every day had become a second nature to her now. When he caught her staring at him, she would fake a laugh, saying that she was just deep in thought.

She faked a smile every day when she saw him, pretending to be happy when she was aching inside from the reality that they would never be together in the sense that she wanted them to be.

She would say that her heart broke a little more each day, but it wasn't possible. Her heart wasn't even whole to start with. It had been broken years earlier, the shattered fragments belonging to Gil Grissom, never to be in her possession again.

She was afraid. Catherine knew it; she could admit it. She was deathly afraid of being rejected as he had been. Afraid of the pain that would follow, although she couldn't imagine hurt any deeper than that she already felt.

_She had watched him, held him as he broke down from the pain. She had stayed with him in his apartment, hearing him sob into the night. She had been so young, it had almost frightened her that people could really feel that much pain, and she had vowed never to put herself through that. _

But she had failed. With Eddie, and now with Gil himself. And she cried every single night because of it. _  
_

And so it continued. A boyfriend here, a boyfriend there, no commitments. Because her heart belonged to one Gil Grissom...it always would. Even if she had a heart to give away, she wouldn't. Because of him.

She had gone to Chris last night, in attempt to forget. It had not worked. Lately, she couldn't even forget him when she was with her boyfriend, whose sole purpose was to help her find a momentary release from everything. It was useless now, she couldn't escape him even for a moment.

And her life was a living hell each and every day.

Because of him.

The End

...of this chapter. I could never leave off there!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: none! gasp

Spoilers: Dialogue from "Pledging Mr. Johnson"; Bodies in Motion

Disclaimer: You know it's not.

.:Personal Stuff:.

Gil Grissom sat at his desk, his head in his hands.

His mind was turned to the conversation that he and Catherine had had several years earlier.

That one question still echoed in his head, as it had numerous times before.

_"Grissom...What personal stuff?"_

He had not answered her.

And it had been brought up again almost two years ago. He could usually count it down to the day, it had affected him so much. But just not today. He had too much on his mind to concentrate on anything else.

She had asked why he still didn't have any personal stuff, but a minute later, apologized and walked away. He had wanted so much to go after her, knowing she had misunderstood his response. But he hadn't. He had been too afraid. And now every day he wished he had. She had thought he had responded that way because he was still hung up on Heather. He hadn't been. He hadn't thought of Heather in a loving way in years. It was because of Catherine herself. Because she could never love him as he loved her. She was out of his league romantically. Always had been and always would be. But he had never wanted anyone else. None of the few woman he had dated over the years had measured up to Catherine. They never even came close.

He had built up a barrier after Heather. A barrier that he had thought no one could ever penetrate. But he had been wrong. One look and she had sent that wall tumbling without even trying. He loved everything about her. The way she smiled, the way she laughed, the loving way she handled Lindsey. Everything about that woman was amazing. The love he had felt for Heather all those years ago seemed so distant compared to what he felt now.

He needed Catherine. And not just as a friend. That was just not good enough any more. He wanted--no, needed more. He had pushed these felings away for so long, telling himself that it was okay just to be her friend. That he would be satisfied with as much as he could have of her. That was what she needed, so that's what he was. For almost twenty years, that was who he was. Her friend, her buddy. The man who got to hear about all of her dates, as if he were one of her girlfriends, not a potential candidate for her affections.

Quite frankly, he was sick of it. Sick of lying, of pretending that he was not interested when he so desperately was. Tonight, he admitted it. But he was also afraid. Somewhere deep within him, he was scared. Heather had hurt him deeply, and though the wounds fade, the scars stay forever.

And he was sure that Catherine did not return his feelings. The evidence never lies, and the evidence said that she didn't love him. If she did, she would have given him a sign or something...anything. But she didn't. And he did not want to go through the pain of telling someone that you loved them, only to be rejected, again.

Gil lifted his head out of his hands to stare at the opposite wall. He did not want to stay at work where someone could, and probably would, walk in on him. He needed to think, but he didn't want to go home.

Standing, he tossed his jacket around his shoulders, and walked out the door.

Twenty minutes later, Gil paid the cabbie and stepped into the smoky atmosphere of the bar. There were a few men playing pool, and several more sitting down having drinks, watching them. Gil went to sit at the opposite end of the bar than where most of the people were. He wanted to atleast be as alone as possible.

"What will it be?" The bartender, a slightly overweight older man, asked.

"Just a beer, thank you."

The bartender poured the drink, set it in front of Gil, and walked back down to the rest of his customers.

Normally, getting drunk was not an option for him. He knew that it was bad, knew that it didn't solve any of his problems. But tonight, he just didn't care. Tonight, all he cared about was Catherine.

Catherine.

Gil sighed. What was he going to do? He honestly didn't know how much more he could take. To see her every day since the team got back together, especially since he had given them more cases together than necessary, because he missed her. But it was a double-edged sword. Every moment he spent in her presence was bitter-sweet. Her lips, those very same lips he wanted so much to kiss, speaking only of work and her newest boyfriend. Those eyes, the sparkling blue ones one could drown in, looking at him with only friendly affection--not the love he longed for.

Somehow, his beer glass was empty already, and he waved the bartender down for another...and another...and another, with a couple shots of Jose thrown in.

By the time he was ready to leave, he was quite tipsy, but had done what he came to do; ponder his situation for hours. Unfortunately, he still wasn't any closer to an answer.

He loved her. She didn't love him. She thought he was hung up on someone else when he wasn't--not that that had anything to do with her feelings towards him. He just didn't like her thinking something when it wasn't the case at all. He still didn't know what he should tell her, if anything. He had not even spilled his guts to the bartender, which he had heard--if you could trust television, songs, and people who were drunk when they gave out the advice-- was quite therapudic. So he really had not accomplished anything at all besides getting drunk and giving himself a future hangover. All in all, not a very good night at all.

Ten minutes later, he was climbing into the back of the cab that had been called for him. Feeling very lightheaded, he slipped into the heated interior of the car.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, it registered that he was telling the cab driver Catherine's address instead of his, but he didn't care.

Less than thirty seconds later, he was out cold in the back seat.


	3. Chapter 3

Category: Angst and more angst for this chapter.

Notes: Hah! Barely, but I made it! I am posting it today, and keeping up with my goal so far! )

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or the characters. They belong to JB, AZ, et all. Not me.

--Personal Stuff Chapter Three--

Catherine awoke to the chime of her doorbell. A glance at the clock confirmed what her mind had already told her. It was way too late, or early, depending on your point of view, for someone to be at her house. Getting up from the couch where she had fallen asleep, Catherine stretched. The bell rang again, and she checked the front window to find a cab parked outside her house. Opening the door, she found a man standing outside with a very drunk and sleepy Gil leaning on him for support.

"Oh, my..." Catherine stared with her eyes wide at her supervisor. He was drunk. Gil Grissom was drunk. He never got drunk unless a case got to him alot. And the case they had been working on had not been anything extraordinary. What on earth was so bad in his life that he had to drink to sort it out? That was not his way of solving problems.

Suddenly, Catherine realized that she was still standing in the way.

"Oh! I'm sorry. Here, let me..."Catherine stepped forward, and together, they hawled Gil to the couch, where they unceremoniously dropped him.

"How much does he owe you?

He told her, and she paid him, along with a five dollar tip.

He thanked her, and was on his way.

Catherine turned back towards the couch to find Gil lying down, but he seemed oddly awake for someone who had been passed out five minutes ago. Maybe she could get something out of him. Like maybe why he had gotten drunk in the first place, or why he had come to her house afterwards.

"Gil?"

"Yes, Catherine?" His voice was slightly slurred, but he seemed to be alert enough.

"Why?"

He sighed dramatically. Okay, maybe he was a little more drunk than she had thought.

"I mean, did the case get to you?"

He shook his head.

"You."

"Me? What about me, Gil?"

He just shook his head again.

"Can't tell you. Then you will know."

He sat up, and they were about even, she on one side of the couch, next to his legs, and he on the other end.

"What will I know, Gil?" Catherine almost felt guilty about prying. She knew he wasn't aware of what he was saying. But that crack about him drinking because of her, and not wanting to tell her about it had her too curious. She was getting a chance to look into the feelings of the mighty Gil Grissom, albeit without his permission, but she couldn't help feeling at least a little bit special. No one had gotten this close to him before; at least since he had closed himself off all those years ago. But she didn't want to think about that right now. Right now, she was on a mission, and she was not going to let bad memories distract her.

She scooted up a little closer, so now she was sitting next to his hips.

"Gil, you can tell me." She said in a soft voice.

Shaking his head yet again, he said,

"No. You can't know. Don't love Heather. You..."

Catherine's eyes widened, but then narrowed. He didn't love Heather? That was why he had gone drinking? But what did that have to do with her? Did he want her to think he was still hung up on Heather?

Catherine scooted away from him suddenly. Oh, God. That must have been it. He had guessed her feelings for him, and had pretended to still be in love with Heather, so he wouldn't have to hurt her and tell her that he didn't love her.

Well, it serves you right, Catherine. She told herself. If only she hadn't gone sticking her nose where it didn't belong, she would have remained blissfully unaware of his feelings...And his knowledge of hers.

Her attempts at curbing the pain that came with that realization were about as successful as they were realistic. She tried to tell herself that nothing he was saying was credible because he was drunk, but she knew that it wasn't true. Alchohol didn't make you conjure up stories, it just loosened your tongue enough so that you spilled the truth, whether you wanted to or not.

Needing to get out of there as soon as possible, Catherine said the first thing that came to her mind.

"I'll...get you some water."

Jumping up, Catherine hurried to the kitchen. She took deep, slow breaths to calm herself as she watched the water stream into the cup. Keeping the tears at bay was going to be tough, but she could hold them in until he was asleep. She had to.

Entering the room again, she was surprised to find him sitting. Although on closer inspection, she noticed his eyes were drooping, and he was barely awake. She helped him take a few sips of water, and slid his shoes of as he laid back down. She walked to the closet to get an extra blanket, and heard him yawn.

As she covered him with the blanket, Catherine couldn't help the wave of love and longing the washed over her as she saw him all cuddled up on her couch. His face was so adorable and vulnerable in sleep. That pouty lip was even more tempting than usual. She heard a gentle snore, and knew he was asleep, but she still didn't back away.

Slowly, as if compelled by some force she couldn't stop even had she wanted to, Catherine leaned down and brushed his lips softly with hers. What she hadn't expected was the jerk of his head up towards hers at the contact, or the way he responded. She pulled back, startled. He whimpered a tiny little whimper, and settled back on the cushions. A few moments later, he was snoring again.

She sat there for what felt like an eternity, but what could not have been, in reality, more than an hour. There were cramps in her legs from sitting in the same position for so long. Except for the steady ticking of the clock, all was still and quiet.

Immersed in the silence, Catherine felt a lone tear slip down her cheek.

"Goodnight, Gil Grissom." She took a deep breath. "I love you."

And with that, she stood and walked back to her room.

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

Summary: See first chapter one.

Notes: I apologize if this part about the hangover isn't realistic at all. I did my best, using what I remember from books that I have read, so I guess that's all that matters...hopefully. I may update Jacksonville Dreamin' later tonight, I don't know. Sorry I didn't get to it last night. I was extremely tired.

Sorry for the short chapter. The next one will be longer, I am pretty sure. :)

Disclaimer: Again, see first chapter. Not that you really think I own them, but in case you feel the need...

--Personal Stuff Chapter Four--

Gil awoke the next morning with a headache. And that was putting it nicely. He did not feel like moving at all. His head throbbed, there was a bitter taste in his mouth, and his eyes couldn't seem to focus very well. The only thing he really remembered from the night before was that he had told the driver to go to Catherine's house instead of his own. And though he remembered being here, everything else was pretty much a blur.

He went back to sleep, only to wake up again an hour later. After somehow convincing himself to get up and get a drink, Gil padded back to the couch and set his glass on the coffee table. He must have woke Catherine because she emerged from her room a few minutes after he laid back down.

She was still wearing her nightgown, although she had thrown a robe on over it. Gil may have had one hell of a hangover, but he could still see that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever met, even in the morning. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair ruffled from sleep, and she was wearing pajamas with no make up. And to him, she was the most gorgeous woman in the world.

She reached the couch and smiled down at him.

"Morning."

Gil groaned in response.

"Here." She said, and handed him a couple aspirin, along with his water. "Helps the headache."

Hil gladly accepted them, and swallowed them along with the rest of his water.

"May I...?" She gestured towards his feet.

"Sure."

She moved his legs out of the way, and sat down on the couch next to him. She flipped the tv on, careful to keep the volume down extremely low. She found an old eighties chick flick, and left it there.

The room remained quiet for over an hour, the quiet sound of the television the only thing breaking the silence.

Gil slept while Catherine watched the movie. After about a an hour, though, he woke back up, feeling better. Not completely, but a little. Unfortunately, he was extremely thirsty, and he didn't want to interrupt Catherine. She seeemed to be quite into the movie. As he went to stand, Catherine was startled out of her movie. She jumped to get up right as he was standing. Unfortunately, she jumped up right into a position where her face was merely inches from his.

"Was..." She cleared her throat. "Was there something you needed?"

Gil knew the answer. It was simple. Water.

"You."

He had not just uttered those words. He hadn't. Just as he was not leaning down to kiss her right at that moment.

But he had and he was.

He heard Catherine's indrawn breath and felt lips part immediately underneath his, but then she stepped away.

"What was that?" Her voice was as cold and indefferent, yet he detected was the slightest hint of vulnerability in her tone.

"Catherine. I am so sorry. I mean - I didn't mean to..." His voice trailed off, and he looked away from her.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"Umm...Well, because I kissed you."

"And that's why you're apologizing?"

"I guess."

"Well, why else would you be?"

She was confusing him. Gil could tell she was getting really angry, but he didn't know what about. He had apologized. But that seemed to be her problem. Why would she be upset about that?

"I don't know - I"

"You didn't need to!"

"What?"

"I said, 'You didn't need to.'"

"What? Kiss you?"

"No! Damn it, Gil! How the hell could someone as smart as you be so dumb!"

"Excuse me?"

"What? Did it never occur to you that I might have _wanted _you to kiss me? That I _might _have wanted it for _damn _near twenty years!"

For once, he was speechless.

"I - I just assumed..."

"Assumed _what_, Gil?"

"I don't know. That - that you would ever...you know...care for me like that."

"You're the one that says assume nothing."

"I know, but I thought that you - I..."

She blew out a breath, and made a face, as if she was part mad, part disgusted with him.

In a deceptively calm tone, Catherine spoke.

"You know what, Grissom? Assume this. Just assume _this_."

And with that, she wrapper her arms around his neck, forced his head down to hers, and gave him a kiss filled with love, heat, passion, and desperation. Seconds later, she pushed away from him, turned, and slammed out the door, leaving a stunned Gil Grissom in her wake.

TBC...

Notes: Do you hate me? I just love a good cliffhanger, don't you? --wink,wink--


	5. Chapter 5

Notes:Sorry this took so long. Thank you SO much to everyone who reviewed/reviews!

Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing.

--Personal Stuff Chapter Five--

Catherine listened as the door to her house slammed behind her. Her feet seemed to be propelling her toward the Denali, though she was not thinking about where she was going to go. In fact, her brain didn't seem to functioning at all. The only thing she knew was that she had to get out of there. She was still wearing her pajamas and a robe, but she didn't care. She just had to get away from him. Damn that man. How did he always manage to be so infuriating!

As she climbed into the Denali and started the engine, using the spare key that was left in there for emergencies, she saw Grissom open the door and come out. Tears blurred her vision, but she continued backing out of the driveway, despite his motioning for her to come back. That he couldn't come after her was her only source of comfort, as he had arrived in a taxi the night before.

Catherine stared out onto the long highway that stretched ahead of her, her thoughts keeping her occupied. The weather seemed to have sensed her mood. It was dark and cloudy, the raindrops on the windshield mirroring the tears that streamed down her face, and dripped onto her robe.

Catherine desperately hoped she had not ruined their friendship by blowing up at him and telling him everything. If she had, she would never forgive herself. To let something as precious as that slip away because of her selfishness...Catherine couldn't even begin to describe how she would feel, it would be so bad. She was already mad at herself for possibly endangering their freindship, just as it was strengthening again. Why couldn't she have been satisfied with what she had?

Her mind traveled back to the night before, to the scene she had relived more times in one night than she would have thought humanly possible. She still didn't know what he meant. She probably never would. But in the back of her mind, where she pushed it, it haunted her. Haunted her until she couldn't take it anymore, and always went back to it. Analyzing what she knew should not be analyzed. Pondering over an unsolvable problem.

And this morning? Even more confusing. Why, oh why, did the man have to be so confusing? He had made the first move. But he had also apologized. That could be interpreted so many ways. Had he wanted to kiss her in the first place? Had he not enjoyed it? She had been the one to back away. In so many ways, now, she wished she hadn't. Because now she had no way of knowing whether he would have if she didn't. But he had said he was sorry. Then she had lost it. Him appologizing for something she had wanted so desperately and for so long was the last straw for her. She had broken down under the pain and pressure of all the burdens she had been carrying around for so long. She had poured it out to him, albeit by yelling, but she hadn't been thinking rationally at the time. In fact, she had not really been thinking at all if she were honest. She had been feeling. Feeling hurt, feeling rejection, feeling curiosity, and feeling love. Love for the man who was standing so close, yet was so far away.

Yes, he had been hurt, but so had she. She knew what it was like. Aside from her own experience, she had known what pain he had been going through. She had listened to him, hurt and cried for him and with him.

She had taken that leap of faith this morning, anyway. Despite the knowledge that he might reject her. But he had done neither in the short time between the time she stopped speaking, and the time she ran out the door. She had wanted him to return the sentiment immedietely, not allowing her time to get out that door. If he had just said those three little words to her, then they would be together right now. And they would be happy, which was a direct contrast to every emotion she felt at the moment. If he would just love her, she would love him with everything in her heart, mind, soul, and body if given the chance. In fact, she already did. But his heart was not in her hands for her to care for; to soothe, to love.

Eddie, Chris, Paul. All of them had lied to her at some point or another. She had been betrayed so many times. Why couldn't she have just let that kiss take its course; if indeed, it would have led anywhere. All she wanted was the truth. Whether he loved her or not, she could handle it. But it was so much harder not knowing. Not knowing if, at that very moment, the love of your life is wondering about you, too. Or if they are simply planning the "I do not love you in that way. I'm sorry" speech that every man or woman dreads hearing.

Truth was not hard to understand, it was strictly black and white. But somehow, when it came to matters of the heart, truth was so complicated, so open to interpretation.

He spoke in riddles so often. A comment here, a remark there that could be interpreted so many different ways. But he would always act so normal, as if nothing had happened. So Catherine had simply assumed that nothing had--That the remarks had no hidden meanings that she always subconsciously searched for.

There were so many moments during the time they had known each other that they had engaged in "flirting." But that was just something they did. It didn't mean anything. Or did it? God, what if she had been misinterpreting everything he did the last twenty years? What had he meant the night before? He was drinking because of her, not Heather. Could that have really meant what the obvious answer was? Was he as in love with her as she was with him? Was he just too scared, or to be more accurate, petrified, to take that chance again? If he was, she definitely knew how he felt. But he had apologized. She just couldn't get over that. Why would he apologize if he didn't mean it? 'Because he was afraid, and you pulling back was no encouragement.' an encouraging voice inside her head whispered.

She lived for him every day. His smile, his touch, his quiet wisdom. Every little quote or phrase he had told her throughout the years somehow stayed with her. Sometimes, when she watched him without his knowledge, the intense longing she felt for him in every way almost made her feel sick, it was so strong. All of ached for him, so very much. Physically, she had wanted him from the moment they met. Even when she wasn't supposed to; when she was married to Eddie. And emotionally? She had learned the hard way that twenty years of love did not vanish or fade with time; but rather, it grew stronger. It grew so much, along with her bodily desires, that anything she had ever felt for even Eddie paled in comparison.

She did love him. She wasn't just using him for selfish reasons, like Heather had. It wasn't just a schoolgirl crush like Sara had felt for him. And she wasn't just fascinated with him, like Lady Heather had been. In truth, it was a little of all of those, and more. Yes, she did want him for selfish reasons. But not only for herself. For him as well, because she would never want him, could never be happy knowing that he wasn't, if he did not truly love her. Sure, she had a crush on him. She found him so attractive, he made her heart skip the proverbial beat. And she _was_ fascinated with him. It was impossible not to be; he was an enigma. You never knew what he was feeling unless he volunteered that information, which he didn't very often. What Catherine felt was so much more than even all of that. It was an indescribable love and passion that bordered on an obsession.

Something inside of her whispered that if she didn't turn back, she would never know how he truly felt. But it was so hard. Despite the fact that she had already admitted her love for him, it was hard. To go back, to see how her words had effected him. Because she knew that they had, or he would not have come after her. The question was, _how_ had they effected him? He had been shocked; that much was obvious. But what else had he felt? Had he been disappointed? Scared? Happy? Catherine didn't know.

But she was going to find out.

Taking a deep breath in a futile attempt to calm herself, Catheirine slowly pulled into a vacant parking lot to turn around. Her hands moved of their own free will to turn the Denali around. She would go talk to him. He did deserve it. And even if he didn't, she did. She had to do this. She could not stand the thought of knowing that she might have had him, but had lost him.

All pride had already been tossed aside when she admitted how she felt about him earlier. She didn't care any more. All she cared about was her happiness. Which would be theirs, because if he didn't love her as she loved him, her already shattered heart would feel as if it had been ripped out of her chest and thrown to the ground for a thousand horses to tread on.

But if he did love her, as she dared to think he might, then maybe, just maybe, her heart would be whole again. In his possession, as his would be in hers. She would care for his heart more carefully than if it were her own--would never intentionally bruise or hurt it in any way.

He would know that when she found him. And she hoped to God that that was all that was holding him back; that he was only afraid as she had been. But Pandora's Box had been opened now. There was no turning back.

Into the world of mystery, she drove; finally ready to face the one man who's words would either make her or break her.

TBC...


	6. Chapter 6

Notes: Sorry it took so long; I was really busy this weekend. And this is the end! I really hope you enjoyed! Thank you SO much for those of you that reviewed. Here you go!

Dedication: To all the wonderful people that reviewed. I don't have time to name them all, because my internet is about to be shut off, and I want to post this tonight, but you know who you are. You rock! (You also qualify for this thanks if you review this chapter. hint, hint!)

--Personal Stuff Chapter Six--

Gil had been sitting in the same position since he came back inside after watching her drive away. He heard the turn of the doorknob; the slight creak of the door as it was opened and shut. He had stayed, knowing she would come bcak after a while. After she had sorted out her feelings. At least, he had hoped she would, and he had been right.

She didn't look mad anymore.

That was the first thought that entered his head as she stepped into the living room.

In fact, she looked upset, yet somehow...at peace, like she had made a decision that had been plaguing her for a long time. There were tear stains on her cheeks and Gil suspected that it wouldn't be long before more tears would be flowing. Although he would never do anything to make her cry, there were things that had to be said. There was too much confusion and too many questions to be answered for him to just snap his fingers, and say everything would be alright.

It just didn't work like that.

"Catherine."

"Gil."

They were now standing in the middle of the living room, just a few paces from each other.

"Listen. We have to talk." She spoke the words that he had been about to utter.

"I know."

"I'll go first." She took a deep breath. "I love you, Gil. And I want to know...do you love me too? It's okay if you say no. I'm not pretending that I won't be hurt. Because I will. But I just want an honest answer. That's all I'm asking for."

She made the entire speech looking him in the eye, and standing proud and tall. Gil felt his heart swell with love for this woman who was so strong. He didn't think he knew any other woman that could have made that statement so proudly, yet humbly; so without reserve, so honestly.

She was standing in front of him, scared behind the facade she was wearing. But if things went the way they should, she should never have to wear that mask again.

Here was his chance. The chance he had avoided for years. He had no clue what to say, but he had to try.

But the moment he opened his mouth, the words just seemed to flow out.

"Listen to me, Catherine Willows. And listen good. I love you. I love you so much that the word 'love' hardly begins to describe it. We have been friends for twenty years, but what I feel for you is much more than friendship. And I have felt it for a long time, Catherine. I was scared. Deep down, I was afraid that you would reject me. But you didn't, and I made a horrible mistake. Will you forgive me?"

Gil wondered how on earth saying those words could heve seemed so simple. But it had. He had simply been telling the truth. Nothing less, and nothing more. He already knew that she loved him. And that had made it so much easier than he had ever expected, that it almost made him wish he had done it before. In fact, he wished he had; it would have saved much pain and heartache for both of them.

"Yes, I forgive you Gil. And this is the last time I will ever bring it up, but..."

"Heather?"

"Yes. Please"

"I know. I expected it." He took a deep breath.

"Heather was...my first love, for lack of a better phrase. You know that. You were there with me; you saw how broken up I was after she rejected me. But, the last several years, when I wanted to feel bad for myself about Heather, it wouldn't work. Because anything I had felt for her once was gone; erased and completely replaced by a much stronger feeling I felt for someone else. You."

Tears streamed down her face as she answered.

"I love you, Gil. I just wish we could have done this earlier. But I was just so scared..."

He pulled her into his arms.

"God, Gil. You have no idea what I've gone through!" She was sobbing now. "The sleepless nights, the longing, the wishing, the-"

"Catherine." Gil interrupted her. He placed his hands on either side of her face and lifted her head, so her tear-filled eyes met his. His hands still gently framed her face as he spoke.

"Yes, I do. I would be willing to bet that I at least have an idea."

She moved her head away from where it had been resting on his shoulder to look into his eyes, smiled a weak, watery smile.

"Yeah, I guess you do, don't you? Sorry, I got a little carried away there."

"That's okay."

She once again, leaned into his arms, and they just stood there, him holding her, for several minutes.

"One other thing, Catherine."

"Hmm?"

"We have been friends for twenty years. We have been through alot; both good and bad. I love your daughter like she was my own, and I hope that we will be a family some day. I don't expect an answer right now; in fact, I don't want one. I just want to let you know my intentions from the very beginning."

Once again, she lifted her eyes to his. They were filled with happiness. Nothing was spoken, but her gratitude and love was as clear as if she had said it aloud.

He leaned down and kissed her gently, a salve for what had been, a reassurance of what was, and a promise of what would be.

THE END


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